


The Broken Stylus

by HeartsGuardianSol



Series: Broken Pieces [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Pining, Tension, We need a clue-by-4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartsGuardianSol/pseuds/HeartsGuardianSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were times he could just throttle that mech. But why did it bother him when the others talked about him? Isn't Jazz just an acquaintance to him? These questions were driving Prowl up the wall... and yet... he already knows the answer he's just not looking straight at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crunch

**Author's Note:**

> This story is from alphabet soup that's slowly congealing into the form of plot bunnies in my head, and this fanfic was born from my previous oneshot, The Breaking of Us. I guess you could say this is a farther in the future continuation of it. Very far in the future. *rubs my temples while not trying to think of an actual timeline.*

1: CRUNCH

.

.

.

"Soooo, just how good a frag is he?"

Prowl frowned and glanced over his datapad, glaring at the green mech that had spoken, Springer. His companions, Blaster, Cliffjumper and Tracks were currently eyeing a certain black and white saboteur who was currently getting his ration of energon. His doorwings twitched in irritation as Blaster replied,

"One o da best Ah eva had." Blaster smirked as the others gave whistles and catcalls, cheering him on.

CRUNCH. The stylus in his servo met an unfortunate end as Prowl's glare deepened and he opened his mouth to chastise them when a cube of energon was placed in front of him. He blinked up at Jazz.

"'ey dere Prowler. Did ya get a good look at dem reports Ah sent ya?" Jazz grinned at him.

Prowl vented a sigh as noted that the other table had switched to a different topic. He noted the occasional glances they shot his way they were aware of his reprising glare he had shot their way.

"Prowler..."

"My designation is Prowl, not Prowler. And yes I did receive your reports, if that is what you'd call those glorified gallivanted tales."

Jazz placed a servo over his spark. "Ya wound meh Prowler."

"Is there any way that you can redo your reports for me and have them on my desk by tomorrow."

"Is tha' a question or ah orda?"

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Must you really ask?"

Jazz shot him a knowing grin before standing up and making his way out of the rec room. Prowl watched his fellow officer exit with a minute shake of his helm. Several snickers from the other table had Prowl glaring again.

.

.

.

Prowl was staring at the equivalent of Jazz's sensified reports, resisting the urge to beat his helm against the desk. Sometimes he just wanted to throttle that mech...

_"Soooo, just how good a frag is he?"_

_"One o da best..."_

CRUNCH. Prowl sighed as he stared at the broken stylus in his servo. It was the third time that cycle he had remembered that particular overheard conversation, the second broken stylus... _At least I didn't break the datapad this time._ Prowl thought as he tossed the stylus into the recycle bin.

He tried not to think on the slowly bubbling confusion that frothed in the back of his processor. His battle computer and tac net had no problem calculating the fact that it annoyed him for them to be talking about Jazz in such a matter. Not only were they publicly defacing a superior officer (despite the TIC's prevalent promiscuity), But somewhere deep down in his processor Prowl considered Jazz to be a dear acquaintance of sorts...  
_  
Yeah, that and an overly lax joke of an officer who just happens to be one of the most deadly mechs in this army with a certain flare for just toeing the line of responsibility._ Prowl vented yet another of many spent sighs before returning to his paper work.

"'Ey Prowler."

CRUNCH. Prowl glared up at the polyhexian as bits of his stylus fell from his servo. "How many times must I tell you that my name is _Prowl_?" he snapped.

Jazz threw his servos up defensively. "Easy dere bot Ah come in peace."

Prowl's doorwings twitched, broadcasting his irritation clearly. "Can't you see that I'm busy reviewing your reports?"

"Ah was only meaning ta drop these off to ya." Jazz pulled several datapads from his subspace. "It's da latest Intel from Mirage an' Punch. Hopefully ya'll be able ta read dem betta." Jazz's tone turned slightly edged as Prowl accepted the datapads.

"Thank you Jazz."

"Yeah whateva." Jazz mumbled as he made his way out the door. It closed with a resounding snap behind the mech, Prowl's frame sagged as it echoed in his audios.

Prowl stared at the door for the longest time before he sighed and picked up yet another stylus.

.

.

.

"I haven't seen this much of you outside of your office in a while Prowl." Smokescreen said as he plopped down at the table across from him. "I suppose this is what you consider relaxation? You do realize that if the Hatchet finds out you are working after your shift he'll wrench ya."

"I don't spend all of my time reviewing reports, just most of it Smokescreen. For your information I was reading some interesting poetry I found."

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge. "Never mind I think I'd prefer you working on reports."

Prowl a rare smile slip across his faceplates. "I thought that you would say that."

"'ey dere Prowler." CRUNCH.

"Jazz." Prowl glanced up at his fellow officer.

"Ya know ya shoul' smile more often. It suits ya." Jazz was smirking. "'Ey Smokey, Me and a few of the mechs have a bet going and we need ya ta handle da credits."

Smokescreen grinned. "I think I'm just the mech for the job. See ya later Prowl."

"Just note Jazz I won't hesitate to brig any bot that breaks any rules. Including _you_." Prowl said with an annoyed twitch of his doorwings.

Jazz's smile brightened as he turned away. "Ah know Prowler."

Prowl watched his brother and Jazz walk back over to the somewhat rowdy table in the back of the rec room. Another smile graced his lip plates before he returned to his datapad to find the screen cracked.  
_  
Not again..._ he groaned inwardly.


	2. Silver and Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too sure how many people read The Breaking of Us or the Notes attached in it But noted in there, Sunny and Sides were two of the prisoners that Jazz (at that time known as Meister) helped escape earning his 'punishment' in that ficlet seeing as they were sparklings in my head cannon, they're younglings at this point in time... *tries to ignore the defining timeline*  
> Ratchet is their primary caretaker....

Prowl was reveiwing reports when the sound of whispered arguing met his audio receptors. he sent the command for the door to his office to open revealing the bases only resident younglings, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker standing stock still as they slowly turned their helms to meet his inquiring gaze.

"Is there something I can help you two with?" He asked with a raised optic ridge.

Both younglings ducked their heads down as their faceplates tinged with blue. "Um..." Sunstreaker spoke quietly, stumbling as his crimson twin pushed him forward into the office. The yellow youngling shot a glare at his twin. "Caretaker made a suggestion for me to try my hand at detailing mechs... and suggested that I offer my services around the base... I know you're always busy and working hard but i thought that maybe you'd like for me to take a go at it?" Wide light blue violet optics glanced pleadingly into his own. Prowl stared down at the golden twin trying to spot any under lying intentions.

It was a well known fact that these two were overly fond of pranking mechs in between their lessons from their caretakers. Prowl vented a sigh before he commed Ratchet. Several klicks later he caved into the pleading turbopuppy optics. _Far be it from me to tell him no._

.

.

.

The odd glances were tossed his way as Prowl made his way across the rec room for his ration of energon. He barely noted them as he collected his cube, making his way over to his usual table. Snickers and whispered taunts hissed in his audio receptors, bringing him from his thoughts as he sat down and pulled out a datapad. He was lost in his work, thinking over an upcoming mission that had been pushed to the forefront thanks to the loss of yet another of the mining cities aligning themselves with the Decepticons.

Prowl was so caught up that he failed to register that Jazz had snuck up on him until he tapped the edge of his datapad. Prowl blinked up as his doorwings twitched with his surprise. He raised an optic ridge as he caught sight of the saboteur. Jazz grinned at him as he stared wordless at the TIC's gleaming silver paint job.

"Ah see dey got ya too Prowler." Jazz motioned to Prowls black and gold paint job.

Prowl shook his helm. "I saw no point in crushing the youngling's aspirations. If this war ever does end I'm fairly certain that Sunstreaker will be one of the best painter's on Cybertron."

"Ya didn't look at ya doorwings did ya."

"No why?" Prowl frowned as he glance over his shoulder.

"Dey wrote ya enforcer glyphs in sparkly pink."

Prowl sighed. "Why does it not surprise me?"

Jazz chuckled as he clapped him on the arm. "Ya know dey do it outta love."

"A love to see me glitch." Prowl grumbled.

"Well Ah think gold looks nice on ya."

Prowl blinked at Jazz, his doors twitching in mild embarrassment as heat flooded to his faceplates. He turned his helm away as he huffed. "Yeah well I do plan on returning to my original colors in a few cycles."

"Meh too. Silva isn't exactly a good color for stealth." Jazz shrugged.

A sharp whistle had the two of them glancing up to a freshly painted Smokescreen. The now white and blue mech was smirking. "Don't you two look like a matching set."

Prowl's wings flared upwards in irritation at his brother's words. He set his brother with a glare. "Hello Smokescreen." he said with a hint of ire in his tone.

Jazz chuckled as he grinned up at Smokescreen. "Ah kno' right? How's it goin' Smokes?"

"Very good. Did you two plan on being silver and gold or is it just a fluke?"

Jazz snorted. "Ah wouldn' want bot's gettin' dat impression. We wouldn' wanna glitch 'em with tha' thought. Right Prowler?"

Prowl's frown deepened, a slight pang echoed in his spark as he distantly found himself answering with, "Primus forbid."

Jazz let loose a light sparked laugh ass he rose to his pedes. "Ah'll catch ya later Prowler. See ya Smokey."

Smokescreen slipped in to the vacated chair and took a sip of his low grade. "Nice glyphs." he smiled at Prowl who was now glaring at him. "However, the pink doesn't really go with the gold."

"Thank you I am well aware of that."

Smokescreen held up his servos. "Easy there I'm sorry I interrupted your time with Jazz."

"What are you implying?" Prowl's optics narrowed.

"Who said I was implying anything?"

"Smokescreen..."

"Yes brother dearest?"

Prowl sighed and shook his helm, taking a sip from his own energon. Smokescreen soon switched from his ominous topic and began talking about the latest hurling match he had partook in with Bulkhead, but Prowl found his thoughts wandering...

_"Ah wouldn' want bot's gettin' dat impression. We wouldn' wanna glitch 'em with tha' thought. Right Prowler?"_

Why did his spark hurt when Jazz had pointed out the obvious? It was the last thing the rumor mill needed... His grip on his cube tightened... and the glass protested with a crack and a slight flood of energon over his servos.

"Yikes." Smokescreen blinked at him as Prowl sighed and pulled out a cloth from his subspace. "Are you okay? It wasn't something I said was it?"

Prowl shook his helm. "No." _not you._ he added silently as he cleaned up his servo.


	3. Failed Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um.. I fully meant for this story to stay in Prowl's pov. Jazz argued with me and hijacked the chapter halfway through. Enjoy.

**Chapter 3: Failed Mission...**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Prowl noted the quietness of the rec room. Several of the mechs shot glares in his direction, others made no acknowledgement of him. It had been an metacycle since the failed attempt to reclaim one of the mines that the Decepticons had taken over. The cons had seen several steps ahead and had caught the Autobot forces off guard, nearly wiping out the tactical and medical bots that had been in what he had concluded a safe point out of the danger of the serious fighting... in fact the only ones still online from that group were Ambulon, Tonic, Smokescreen, Doldrum, and himself.

To make matters worse, the cons had managed to pin the Autobot forces in the mine before dropping the roof of the damn thing on them. What had started as a simple, well coordinated attack became a defeat that had sent over twenty of their comrades to the well, and left almost a dozen in the med bay.

To say the least, there were many who were disheartened by the loss of their friends. Prowl didn't fault them for their displeasure and scorn. He vented an internal sigh as he took his usual seat. He bore their spark piercing gazes stoically, wishing for either his brother or even Jazz to come speak with him... But Ratchet had yet to release Smokescreen and Jazz... No one had really seen Jazz since _before_ the mine... If it hadn't been for the saboteur's report on his desk, and the report from the Wreckers, he would have suspected that he had perished under the rubble.

Prowl's tank churned in turmoil as he thought back to the almost _bland_ report... Either Jazz had taken his retorts seriously for a change or something... something _else_ had gone wrong during that last mission...

Prowl sighed as he stood up from his seat. He needed to figure this out, and the best way was to go to the source.

.

.

.

_Jazz hissed when he came too, his processor was wrapped in a fog of pain. His restraints tightened their grip as his visor flashed online to take in the barely lit cave. The only source of said light were the dimly glowing energon crystals, the light cast by his visor, and a red visor._

_"Hello Meister." a familiar voice said as a he was pulled towards that red visor. A rumble built in his chassis as the speaker's battle mask parted to reveal the face that he had once upon a time loved more than any other._

_"Mah name's Jazz." Jazz growled as he fought against the wires binding him. "Meister died vorns ago. No thanks to you. Let me go you filthy Con."_

_A chuckle escaped the Decepticon TIC. "And let you warn your comrades about our trap? I think not." Soundwave whispered as he dragged a servo down Jazz's frame. "Beside's_ Jazz _you were a con just like me at one point in time..."_

_"Glitched fragger." Jazz spat at him trying to ignore the fine tipped claws caressing his transformation seams. "Get your fragging servos off of me." He growled, his field filled with disgust, anger and fear._

_Those claws had made their way up to his helm, tracing a line back and forth between his audio horns and his visor. Jazz tried to fight down the tremble that came with each stroke to his visor. His intake hitched slightly as Soundwave's servo stopped on the edge of his visor.. "If you insist."_

.

.

.

Jazz shot straight up on his berth, gasping for air, the motion sensor for his lights brightening the room quickly. The last vestiges of the memory loop clinging to him, the feel of Soundwave's tentacles against his armor, the pain from having his visor ripped off... Jazz buried his helm in his hands, and tried to ignore his time in the mine...

_I can see. I can see. It's not dark. He's not here..._

Soundwave had left him down there in that damned fissure cave, blind, fairly molested, and sealed him in to the cave on top of it... It was fragging _luck_ that Jazz had been found by the group of Wreckers that had been digging for their own in the (by the time they found him) collapsed mine...

It took the medics several painstaking cycles to even consider giving him a replacement visor with the amount of casualties that had flooded the med bay with the failed mission... It nearly drove him mad... that darkness...

He shuddered again, curling in even tighter on himself as he hiccupped. _I'm safe... It's not dark... I can see..._

A knock on his door brought him out of his mantra with a jolt. He lifted his helm from his arms and stared at the door torn between answering it and ignoring whoever was on the outside.

The knock repeated itself again, a little sharper this time. "Jazz I know you are in there. Red hasn't seen you leave your room fro several cycles."

 _Just because he hasn't seen me doesn't mean I don't have other ways of getting out of here._ Jazz frowned as he glared at the door.

"Jazz, don't make me have to go to Ratchet to get your door open."

 _You would too._ Jazz thought scornfully as he uncurled himself from the berth as he made his way to the door. The door slid aside to reveal the somewhat stressed Praxian standing there. Prowl looked worse for wear, most likely from the results of the lost battle, there were still healing weld marks on the tactician's chassis. "Whaddya want Prowler?"

Prowl blinked at him, his optics zeroing on his face. _Was that concern?_ "I read your report." he said as his mouth pulled into a tight line.

"And?" Jazz asked as he leaned against the door frame.

"What aren't you saying?"

Jazz had to force himself to smile. "Who said Ah was hidin' anythin'?"

Prowl's frown deepened. "Jazz you forget that I have seen your reports. You _never_ have managed to write your reports with such concise clarity. If it wasn't for the fact that it's written in _your_ handwriting, I would suspect that you had had Mirage write it."

"Ya were da one who kept growlin' at meh to submit cleaner reports ta ya."

Prowl stared at him for several klicks before sighing. "You are correct. But I didn't expect you to actually listen to me. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, I should known better." Prowl said as he turned his helm.

"Is dat all ya need?"

Prowl shifted slightly as he retrained his gaze back on Jazz's faceplates. "Get some rest Jazz, you look like you could use it."

"Hey at least Ah don't look like Ah'm fresh off da Hatchet's table." Jazz smirked.

Prowl blinked at him before shaking his helm. "I suppose you are right. Have a good night cycle Jazz."

Jazz watched as Prowl rounded the corner before he retreated back into his quarters. It hurt having to lie to his friend, but this was something he'd rather deal with on his own.


	4. Out of Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gets handsy, Prowl flips, Jazz ends a ruse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is from Jazz's pov.

Jazz was staring slurrily into his cube of high grade. He was barely listening to the chatter that made up the noise of the room. He was trying not to think about the nightmares of his latest memory loops his processor had been torturing him with. As it was it was late into lunar cycle, very late. He'd been avoiding Prowl who had been lurking around him at every corner lately, concern and determination written on both his faceplates and in his EM field.

It unsettled him. He was damned sure the praxian was onto what had happened in the mine... Jazz's grip tightened on the cube. _Oh Primus please just let him forget about it..._

An arm slung itself across his shoulder as Springer leaned against him. "Hey there Jazz, how about you and me get outta here and see just how talented you are hm?"

"Ge' offa meh Springer." Jazz grumbled.

"Aw don't be like that..." Springer said as a servo ghosted over Jazz's aft.

Jazz stiffened in the seat. "Springer... remove that servo before Ah do."

Springer's servo squeezed...

.

.

.

Prowl blinked at the cell that the TIC was currently occupying. Jazz glared up at him, his visor cracked and dim. "Dare I ask why you are in here?" Prowl said in a dry tone.

"..."

Prowl sighed. "Jazz..."

Jazz mumbled something unintelligible.

"Come again?"

"Ah tol' 'im to ge' his servo's offa meh." Jazz grumbled.

"So he instigated the fight?"

"No Ah did. But only after the fragger groped meh."

Prowl's face remained neutral, but he couldn't stop the angry twitch of his doorwings. Jazz knew that twitch.

"Prowler, he don' need ta be reprimanded anymore, Ah think Ah did well enough." Jazz said as he pulled a green servo out of his subspace. "Though Ah think Ratch' might want this so he can put da fragger back togetha."

Prowl raised an optic ridge before gently accepting the hand. "... I think that your means were justifiable."  Prowl said as he powered down the bars.

Jazz eyed Prowl's rigid movements. "Prowler, Ah know that look."

"Jazz seeing as you are the offended party, you should not worry yourself over Springer's actions."

"Prowler..."

Something snapped in the former enforcer. "You realize that this is your own fault. If you weren't so.. so _promiscuous_ in your off duty activities this most likely would not have happened." Prowl said icily. "Now as I have already said do not concern yourself with Springer's punishment." Prowl said before turning and stalking out of the brig.

Jazz stared blankly in the Praxian's wake trying to come back. He finally hmphed before stalking out of the brig, not even noticing the crunch of metal under foot from what bits of Springer's hand that had fallen off when Prowl had crushed in his hand.

.

.

.

"Thank you for being so willing to take on our newest problem sparkling Ultra Magnus, Kup. I can only hope that you will be able to teach him a little more respect for leadership than he already inhibits. I will have him out on the next transport." Prowl said before he cut the com and glancing over the desk at the triple changer.

Springer looked torn between a combination of nervous and delighted, the delight fading slightly as he noticed Prowl's gaze on him. "Um... Thank you sir?"

"Do not thank me. If you think that I am harsh with my rules then wait until you meet Ultra Magnus. " Prowl said with a slight glare.

"If you're done with me, Ratchet's commed me about a replacement hand..." Springer trailed off as Prowl stood behind his desk. He tried not to cringe as the SIC leaned forward.

"Listen to me and listen well Springer, you would be best off _not_ mention _anything_ about _why_ you are being transferred. If I even hear a _whisper_ of any kind based on the incident, you will not like the consequences." Prowl's voice was low and grim. "Now I suggest you get out of my office."

Springer was out within a klick of the dismissal. Prowl vented angrily as the door clicked shut behind the mech.

.

.

.

Jazz glared angrily at the mechs that gave him a wide berth as they passed his table in the rec room.

_"You realize that this is your own fault. If you weren't so.. so promiscuous in your off duty activities this most likely would not have happened."_ Prowl's words echoed through his processor, and Jazz couldn't help but feel that he was right. This was his own fault...

Another cube was set on the table in front of him as Blaster took a seat across from him. The red orange mech grinned at him. "How's it hangin' mah mech?"

Jazz blinked up at him, and before he could stop himself, "Look, could ya just stop with da lie?" slipped out of his mouth...

Blaster blinked at Jazz. "Pardon?"

"The ruse we came up with ta keep bots from tryin' ta hit on meh, can we just stop?"

"Jazz... Don't you think da damage has already been done? Ah doubt if anyone would listen ta meh if Ah did try tellin' da truth. But Ah will if ya want meh ta."

"Please?"

"Done."

"Thanks..."

.

.

Smokescreen glance up from his one-sided card game for the briefest moment, as Jazz thanked Blaster and got to his pedes and made his way out of the rec room. He considered informing his brother about the information he had just overheard... But thinking back to how he had walked into Prowl's office to find the desk flipped, the floor littered with broken writing utensils. He decided to file this away for another time...


	5. Vents

**Chapter 5: Vents**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Prowl glared at energon dispenser, enjoying his half cube as he contemplated over the latest in a new set of energon restrictions that had been proposed. He had already sent the rough draft to Optimus and Ratchet alike.

He sighed as he returned his gaze to the data pad in front of him. They really needed to find a new energon source and soon...

A cube was set in front of him as a red and white form took the seat across from him. Prowl didn't meet the medic glare as he acknowledged his presence with a twitch of a doorwing. "It's rare to see you outside the med bay, Ratchet."

"Likewise." Ratchet mumbled before taking a sip of his energon. Several klicks passed before he spoke again breaking the silence of their table. "Have you seen Jazz lately?"

"I have not."

"He failed to report for his secondary check up. I was hoping that you may have an idea as to his whereabouts may be."

"I'll keep an eye out for him." Prowl said before taking a sip of his energon. Ratchet said nothing more as he partook his own energon. "Is that all you needed?"

"Mmm... I was curious if you have went off the deep end with this slag." Ratchet growled as he pointed to Prowl's data pad.

_Surprise surprise..._

_._

_._

_._

Prowl frowned as he glanced up from his data pads. He fanned his doorwings trying to catch the errant signal that had been caught. HIs office was deadly silent save to the hum of his systems... He shifted his door before returning to his work. After several klicks had passed his sensors had picked another vibration in the air, coming from the ventilation overhead.

He silently sent a command to his door to have it open and dimmed the lights before he made his way across the room to the nearest grate.

.

.

.

Jazz sighed as he settled in place. He had spent the better part of the cycle hiding in the ventilation once Ratchet had made it a point to hunt him down... It was something that all mech's feared... so he couldn't exactly be blamed for hiding. Jazz shook his helm as he mused. _Pit, perhaps we should just unleash the Hatchet on the Con's Those fragging wrenches hurt like the pit._

There was movement in the room below him and Jazz stilled. He was currently located above Prowl's office. Jazz figured that all he needed to do was wait till the end of Prowl's shift before he could slip out of the vent, seeing as Ratchet knew that there would be no way the stick in the aft SIC would provide him sanctuary from the angry medic.

There was movement below once more and the soft light filtering through the vent ahead of him was cut off as the telltale sound of the door closing caught his attention. He dared not make a sound for several breems before moving out of his position and for the vent.

He didn't expect to find himself met by a pair of irritated blue optics as Prowl blinked into the vent as the grate was removed. "Jazz?"

"... Hi Prowl." the saboteur grinned.

"... What are you doing in there?" Prowl asked as he raised an optical ridge.

"Um... nothin' Ah'm just chillin'."

"In the vents."

"Yup."

Silence passed between the two of them for several moments before Prowl sighed. "This hasn't anything to do with Ratchet looking for you does it?"

"Hm... no?"

Prowl rolled his optics before raising a servo to his helm to activate his comm link. Jazz's own caught his arm. "Don't."

"Jazz, you know that avoiding Ratchet is pointless." Prowl moved his other servo only for it too to be captured.

Jazz made a slight whine before begging, "Prowl _please."_

Doorwings twitched in irritation as Prowl set Jazz with a dry look. "Jazz let me go."

"Prowl _please_ don't com him. I'm fine."

Prowl yanked on his arms. "Jazz let go."

"Not until ya promise me that you won't com Ratchet."

"Jazz..." Prowl growled as he look a step back and pulled. Jazz quickly slipped from the vent falling on top of him, the sudden weight catching him off guard.

They landed in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor, Prowl landing on his doorwings hissing sharply from pain from their pinned position and Jazz's hands clenched tightly on Prowl's arms.

"Ow." Jazz groaned as he sat up, his visor flickering as he tried to clear the static from the input.

Prowl had froze beneath Jazz, the pressure on his doors almost forgotten as Jazz shifted uneasily. His processor blanked out as Jazz shifted, unknowingly grinding against his modesty panels. Jazz's visor blinked as he stared down at the praxian, his death grip on his arms slackened.

The door slid open not even a microklick later, two helms snapped to stare wide opticked at the mech that stood in the doorway. Smokescreen stood motionless in the doorway his entire frame screamed at his sudden shock before a blush swept over his faceplates. He turned around and quickly stepped back out.

It was then that Jazz became aware of his precarious position and finally tore his servos from Prowl's arms as if he was burned.. The smaller mech scrambled off of Prowl, what bit's of his faceplates that could be seen were dark with embarrassment.

"Ah'm sorry Prowler." Jazz quickly pulled Prowl up to his pedes. He fidgeted in front of Prowl, rubbing the back of his helm. Prowl was just staring at him. "Um... well ah've got to find a new hidin' place... if ya'll excuse me." The polyhexian dashed out leaving a moderately still stunned Prowl standing in the middle of his office.

.

.

Prowl blinked at his door as his processor finally returned from what had to be the longest vacation it had ever had short of a glitch. His faceplates flushed as he finally blushed as he got a full replay of the situation that his brother had caught him in.

His doorwings ached from their collision, his hands felt numb... and damn it all if he wasn't feeling flustered from an unknown emotion that stirred within him...

 _What is wrong with me?_ Prowl thought as he frowned, staring at his hands.


	6. Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet finally gets his mech and Smokescreen coughs up some reasoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry that this chapter is short... my muses did not agree with me no matter how much I tried to extend this chapter.

**6: Irony**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jazz glared up at Ratchet who smirked down at the saboteur who was tightly bound in several sets of stasis cuffs bound and glued to a chair, his armor coated in a myriad of colors. It had been nearly a metacycle since the TIC had been avoiding Ratchet, much cursing had been tossed around along with wrenches.

Even with the greater part of the Special Ops mechs had even been coerced into trying to capture their illustrious leader, it had taken only the twins to finally catch the TIC, shocking the mechs who had been betting on who would capture Jazz first... Only two mechs had bet on the younglings... and Ratchet couldn't be more proud of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in this moment.

"Amazing... simply amazing that none of your mechs could catch you." Ratchet said as he removed the cloth gag the Twins had crammed into his mouth.

"Da twins caught me by surprise." Jazz groused.

"Well you are the one that taught them how to sneak about. I believe the saying is payback's a glitch."

"Ha ha. Can you get the chair off mah aft now?"

"I'm half tempted to make you suffer and stay like that for a cycle or two." Ratchet said as he plugged into his data port to run a diagnostic on Jazz. "But the it will be a pain to get the glue out of your seams if I leave it longer." He grumbled as he disconnected the cable. "I need to remove your visor Jazz. I promise it won't be for long."

Jazz tensed as best as he could in that chair, the visor winking off as he let the medic remove it. Ratchet's digits gently poked and prodded around where the connections had been patched. It ached slightly making Jazz hiss lowly..

"I really wish you would let me replace them."

"Ya remember what happened the last time ya tried." Jazz said bitterly.

Ratchet's hands stilled in their examination as he stared down at the empty optic sockets. They gazed hollowly upwards at him as Jazz tilted his helm up at him, a bitter reminder of one of his many failures...

"It was but one instance of your frame's rejection... I'm sure we'd be able to try again-"

"No."

"Jazz, you do realize how much of a disadvantage-"

"I don't care."

"But the odds of your frame rejecting another set of optics-"

"Ratchet." Jazz bit the name out tensely.

Ratchet let loose a somewhat defeated sigh before he replaced the spy's visor. The door to the med bay opened as Smokescreen ambled through followed by Inferno carrying an unconscious Prowl.

"What the slag made him crash this time?" Ratchet growled as Inferno placed the prone praxian on one of the spare berths.

Smokescreen flinched as his doorwing twitched. "Um..."

.

...Earlier in the rec room...

.

Smokescreen smiled up at the mech that sat down across from him. "I suppose you are here for your winnings."

"That would be correct." Prowl returned the smile.

"You know that most of the others think you cheated."

"I did no such thing."

"Mhm. And who was it that supplied the twins with the stasis cuffs?"

"I did not give them the cuffs." Prowl expression didn't change as he coolly took a drink from his cube. "Now I may have taught the younglings how to operate a set of cuffs. But that was completely unrelated lesson."

Smokescreen raised an optical ridge. "Oh really."

"I merely demonstrated their use while explaining to the twins what their future punishments will be like if they keep up with their... extracurricular activities.."

Smokescreen shuddered. "I hope you haven't scarred them for life."

"I'm pretty sure they bounced back." Prowl smirked before returning his attention to his cube.

Several minutes passed silently between the two brothers before Smokescreen, who had been shooting glances at Prowl spoke up with, "So um... You and Jazz."

A doorwing twitched as Prowl's smile faded. "If you are referring to that compromising position that you found us in the other cycle, it was an accident."

"An accident." Smokescreen deadpanned.

"That is correct."

"..."

"..."

"...A happy one?"

" _Smokescreen."_ Doorwings snapping back to arch as Prowl hissed at his brother.

Smokescreen held up his servos. "What I'm just saying-"

"I _know_ what you're implying." Prowl said curtly.

Smokescreen bore his brother's glare as Prowl downed the last of his cube. "Oh I'm not implying anything. After all it's not like you don't like him." he smirked as Prowl choked on his energon. "In fact I would go as far to say that you're quite taken with Jazz. Not that I can blame you."

Prowl had continued to sputter for several klicks before Smokescreen had finished speaking. And as Smokescreen's reasoning sunk in the mech tensed up as his optics grew wide. His mouth worked wordlessly as there was a telltale pop...


	7. Tension

**Chapter 7: Tension**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Prowl came to with a splitting processor ache. He winced at the brightness of what could only be the medbay's lighting. He let loose a weak groan as he shuttered his optics and let his memory catch up with him.

He had been talking with his brother concerning the incident in his office...

 _"Oh I'm not implying anything. After all it's not like you don't like him."_ His brother's voice echoed in his memory clearly as he realized that his emotional core and his tactile processors fought for dominance..

 _Frag. Just frag._ He thought bitterly as he breathed slowly, trying to remain calm as he processed what his brother clearly and blatantly laid out for him. _How in the pit could I have not noticed this before?_

His tactical computer reasoned with a simple, _The dangers for having a relationship at the current time 98.7%_

 _Yes thank you I really didn't need to know that._ He grumbled inwardly. He just couldn't see how he fell for the mech in question... Jazz irritated him to no end. His on base carefree demeanor grated on his nerves.

_Yet Jazz always kept up the morale of the base far better than any speech that Prime could give. It was that carefree attitude that drew the broken and downtrodden mechs in like a Sparkeater to a spark. Jazz was able to diffuse any confrontation faster than he could with just a smile and an offering to go get overcharged on some of Ironhide's special brew... Jazz's smiles were absolutely dazzling..._

He frowned. This was getting him nowhere other than another potential glitch. He rubbed the side of his helm as the door to the room slid open. "It's about time you came to." Smokescreens wry tone pierce through the din. "How you feeling?"

Prowl cracked his optics to shoot his brother a glare.

"I'll take that as peachy. Seriously though, a glitch? Over me just stating the truth don't you think that's a bit much?"

Prowl sighed before sitting up to look him in the optics. "I didn't realize..."

"That you like-"

"Finish that sentence and I will shoot you in the interface relay." Prowl's growl cut him off. The blue Praxian grinned at him, and Prowl mentally cursed his brother. Smokescreen was a pro at crawling under his armor and ruffling his doorwings.

"Nah you wouldn't do that to me. After all I might want some sparklings some day."

"... I am sure that Ratchet could replace your interface relay should it were to be accidentally be melted via acid pellets." Prowl said dryly.

"Too harsh bro. Too harsh." Smokescreen pouted as he leaned against the wall.

They sat in silence for several klicks before Prowl quietly asked, "How obvious is it?"

"Hm?" his brother blinked at him. "Oh that... Well to be honest, I was just teasing you. I figured yeah you two are good friends and all... I never would have pictured you for falling for the one mech who seems to be your complete and total opposite."

"He's not my- he's not _that_ much different than me. He handles his missions and report seriously, commands the respect of his team and may I remind you, he is a senior officer of this army and should not be talked about in such a manner."

Smokescreen stared at his brother before sighing and pushing away from the wall. "Whatever. Look I'm late for my shift, I'll catch you later Prowl."

Prowl had barely a moments worth of peace before Ratchet rounded the still open door frame. The medic said not a word as he checked over Prowl's diagnostics, his silence unnerving the black and white after the longest time Prowl broke the silence with, "How long were you listening?"

"Long enough." Ratchet said gruffly without turning to face Prowl. "You had a rather nasty one this time."

"What no ranting at me?"

"Prowl, I could rant at you till I'm blue in the faceplates, but it isn't going to do any either of us any good." Ratchet said as he turned back around. "Should I ask who the lucky bot is?"

Prowl glared at Ratchet. "There is no 'lucky bot'. After all this is not the time to instigate any relationships."

Ratchet let out a snort. "Since when has that stopped anyone?" He asked with a raised optic ridge.

"I can not afford to be compromised with emotional delusions at this moment in time."

The medic gave him a disappointed look. "Prowl, you can't think like that... It's not healthy."

A wry smile graced Prowl's face. "Your concern is noted. I believe that I've recovered from my glitch. Am I correct?"

Ratchet grit his denta before letting loose a sigh. "Yes. Though if you ask me I think you need to go have a few sessions with Rung."

"Also noted."

.

.

.

Jazz growled as he slung the datapads from his desk to the floor. He vented heavily before running a hand over his face. He couldn't deal with this right now, two of his agents were compromised, a third had sent a report telling of some underlying plot in Simfur and Mirage had _yet_ to report in... Worse he was confined to the base by Ratchet... He growled as he tossed the now broken stylus he had been holding in his hand across the room into the recycling bin. He was trying his best not to think back on the rest of his appointment... with little success.

The rest of his time at the med bay had been bad enough, the tension between him and Ratchet could have been cut with a knife. He _loathed_ being reminded of his disfigurement. Ratchet knew him better than most, the medic having been his friend since the day he'd been a slagged, fragmented, pile of scrap on his operating table. Pit, Ratchet was probably the only ally he had had when the cons had hand delivered him outside the gates to Iacon all those vorns ago. It was only his bad luck that the medic knew that his biggest trigger topic was his optics- or the lack of them.

"Having a bad day are we?"

Jazz didn't look up at his subordinate as he jolted out of his thoughts. "'Raj. Glad to see ya made it back in one piece."

The blue and white mech smirked as he took a seat in the chair across the desk. "You look like you could use some good news."

"Like a starving mech needs energon." Jazz said as he stooped to pick up the discarded datapads. "But Ah've got a nasty feeling that ya only have bad news."

"For what it's worth I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just gimme ya report."


	8. Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a fic without a shower scene?

  
"You're an idiot you know that right?" Ratchet growled at Jazz who was lingering by the door to the med bay watching as several of his Xops mech made their way in.

"Nah Doc Ah'm clever." Jazz said with a grin as he edged his way towards the door. "You have fun patching up my bots. I'll be back later." 

"Jazz get your aft back here!" Ratchet called after him as the doors swung shut behind him. A distinct lack of angry medic chasing him made Jazz relax a fraction... but the ash and dirt coating him sifted into the crevices making him shudder. His first stop would be the wash racks... And not any of the obvious ones, just in case Ratchet did decide to try to drag him back to the med bay.

His path took him to a lesser used portion of the base, down in the bowels of the structure where few mecha were brave enough to try going near for rumors of sparkeaters in the nearby sealed off caverns gave them shivers... Jazz wasn't completely sold on the sparkeater myth.. but there were times the noises that echoed in these seldom used halls were enough for him to keep him wary... 

So when he found the trail of glorified hot pink sludge and the sound of the wash racks already going strong he wasn't too surprised to see steam rolling out of the door.

He was surprised to see a certain Praxian coated in the evident sludge, his door panels spread wide as the solvent hit them and his dorsal plating, optics closed and his face far more at ease than he had ever seen the uptight mech... A sigh on his lips as he gave his doorwings a rustling flick sending the remaining goo off of the sensitive panels... only to freeze as he realized he had a audience.

  
x

  
Prowl sighed as the hot solvent rent through the muck coating his doorwings. The stuff dribbled off of him in globs, making him wonder just what in the Pit did the twins use in this ungodly concoction... Whatever was in it had some how dulled his sensors and that felt _wrong._.. He mentally noted to check with Wheeljack to inquire about said invention to see if was the scientists..

Prowl gave his panels a rough shake freeing them of the muck. A sigh escaped his lips before he his sensors altered him to the visitor at the door.

Prowl onlined his optics to stare at Jazz who was standing still in the mist filled doorway, visored gaze directly on him. He cleared his vocalizer breaking the saboteur from his trance. "Jazz."

That bright visor flickered for a second before the trademark grin spread on Jazz's face. "The twins handiwork?" he asked as he made his way over to another faucet.

Prowl gave affirmative sound as he rotated his doorwings. "Red Alert discovered them lurking about down here... and I happened to fall into one of their traps while searching for them."

"Ah'm surprised that you even know about this set of racks.. Ya know ya left a trail right?""

Prowl glowered at him for a klik before stating, "I swear I'm going to make them clean it with the smallest brushes I can find."

Jazz gave out a laugh. "Prowl, those two are never gonna learn to grow out of their pranking stage if ya never stop retaliating on them for it."

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

A handful of suds hitting him in the faceplates was answer enough.


	9. Sticky situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More twinly hi-jinx's, and sticky situations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good portion of this chapter some of you might recognize. I figured it was only fair to post the top part of this chapter with the last half to save some of y'all from having to dig through my drabble bin...

Prowl groaned as he onlined, his processor aching with the telltale signs of recovering from a glitch. He went to move a servo to his helm only to be met by resistance. Frowning he unshuttered his optics to find himself tied down to his desk chair. He growled as he wriggled in his bindings, his last memory log recalling two particular younglings had been in his  office for some reason or other. 

 _Sideswipe and Sunstreaker..._ he sighed as he relaxed marginally. 

"Well... When ya said ya were tied up earlier ya weren't kidding."

Prowl jolted from his thoughts to find a particular polyhexian leaning against his doorframe. Jazz was trying his hardest not to let his humor show. The praxian gave him a flat look before he retorted dryly, "I can assure you that this is not what I meant." .

"Hey now no need ta get yourself all twisted inta a knot." Jazz smirked his trademark slag eating grin.

Prowl’s look turned into a glare. "Will you please just untie me so that I can go speak to Ratchet about his charges."

"Ah see why dey asked me ta teach em how ta tie those knots... Dey didn't want ya gettin out." Jazz said as he made his way halfway across the room, making a show of his steps by prancing around in circles, the spy knowing full well he was irritating Prowl... only to freeze mid-step with his back turned to the tactician. "Why dem little sneaks."

"Jazz?" 

"They spread glue on da floor. Ah’m stuck."

"..."

Jazz lifted his servo to his helm. "Hey Ratch- No- Ah'd love ta but Prowler an Ah are kinda in da same situation right now. Alright-" Jazz sighed as he cut the comm. "Ol' Hatchet says they pulled da same thing ta him up in da med bay. Hoist is tryin' ta get him loose right now before dey can come get us loose."

"Wonderful. I can assume that Ratchet has an explementary atonement for the twins planned."

"He was cursing up a storm." Jazz grinned.

"I hope you are well aware that I blame you for encouraging their extracurricular activities."

 

X

X

 A couple cycles later...

 

Smokescreen smirked into his energon as he watched his brother from across the room. The younger praxian was currently teaching the base's resident troublemakers a lesson in humility... by making them clean the dispensary with the smallest brushes he could find.

To say the least, Sunstreaker's glare promised payback for the scuffs on his armor from all of the cleaning they had been doing since their latest prank. Sideswipe was taking it all in stride and was even chatting it up with the older mechs that passed him by.

Prowl had been in a foul mood ever since the Twins had tied him up in his office. Though a certain black and white polyhexian being glued to the floor in front of him for the better part of six hours probably didn't help. Especially since Smokescreen had caught Jazz stretching the upper portion of his frame when he had poke his head into Prowl’s office, Prowl’s face had been almost as red as his chevron...

His brother's glare shifted to meet his own gaze, as if he knew full well what Smokescreen was thinking about. The black and white's doorwings flickered in slight irritation as he grumbled something to the younglings. He made his way across the room. Smokescreen broadened his smirk into a smile and nodded at his brother as he pulled out a chair ad sat at the table. "Prowl."

"Smokescreen."

"So are they on your punishment detail or Ratchet's at the moment?"

"Red Alert's. He originally wanted us to microchip the twins."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"Prime got them off the hook this time, he reasoned with Ratchet that it wouldn't be fair or right to tag the younglings like cyberhounds," said Prowl as he watched Sideswipe poke Sunstreaker with his brush. The yellow mechling glared daggers at his twin as the brush met his cheek over and over.

"Would you have done it?"

"..."

Smokescreen smiled at his brother as he watched the twins. "You can't stay mad at them can't you?"

"Jazz asked me to take it easy on them." Prowl said as Sunstreaker gave in finally and tossed the bucket of cleanser at his twin. Sideswipe chortled in sputtering laughter as he dodged the bucket that Sunstreaker tossed at him. "If you'll excuse me."

Smokescreen shook his head as the former enforcer moved to scold the twins. Prowl was currently holding the yellow twin back from the red one who was laughing at his brother's threats.

His comm chose that minute to go off.

 _:Smokescreen... Do I have to physically track you down and drag you by your doorwings to get you into the med bay?:_ Ratchet's irate tone growled over the line.

Smokescreen rolled his optics. _:Ambulon gave me my maintenance check two days ago.:_

_:I need to speak with you.:_

_:Is it about me?:_

_:No.:_

_:Is it about a psych eval? Because the last time I looked Rung is on the base.:_

_:It's about that glitch you call a brother.:_

_:Mmm... there's not much I can do about him.:_

_:Smokescreen...:_

Smokescreen smirked into his cube of energon.. _:Yes Docbot?:_

"We need to talk." Ratchet grumbled ominously from behind him.


	10. All in the Details.

"Owowowow! Aw geez will you let go already we're here! Get off!" Smokescreen whine as Ratchet forcibly shoved him into the med bay by his doorwing.

"It's about time." Sunstreaker muttered.

"Yeah we were getting bored." Sideswipe chimed in.

"Hush you two." Ratchet said as he locked the doors.

Smokescreen blinked at the other mechs in the room which included Red Alert, Ironhide, Hoist, the twins, Ambulon, and the docbot himself. "How did you two beat us here?" he eyed the twins.

"Magic." Sideswipe smirked.

Smokescreen raised an optic rigde as the glinnt in the red twinling's optics sent chills down his spinal strut."Um... right... Alrighty then... what's going on here?"

"Welcome to the war room kid." Ironhide said with a grin. "We're here to get that glitch of your brother with Jazz."

Smokescreen twitched but attempted to feign innocence. "... You're kidding right? Mr. Logic Brain with anyone please."

Ratchet cleared his intake. "I spoke with him about his crush."

Smokescreen glared over his shoulder at the medic. "Ratchet-"

"Look I'm tired of watching him going all moon opticked over Jazz in the hallways." Red Alert piped up. Prowl has been literally stalking Jazz in the halls. Frankly, I'm surprised that Jazz hasn't brought up charges for it."

"So... You all have been trying to play matchmaker?"

"Keyword being trying. As you can see Operation: Stick em was a failure."

"Wait are you telling that whole mess the other day was a trick? But you guys were glued down too!"

The twins gave the blue praxian a devilish set of grins. "It's all in the details." the golden youngling replied.

Smokescreen blinked at them before shaking his head. "You realize it's hopeless right? Prowl is never going to admit his feelings towards Jazz.."

"When there is a will there is a way."

x  
x  
x

  
Prowl was in the middle of reviewing another set of disappointing field reports when Optimus commed him for a meeting. What Prowl didn't expect upon entering the Prime's quarters was to find a haggard and absolutely filthy Jazz.

"Jazz? What in the pit happened to you?"

The TIC gave him a smile. "Reconnasscense. Got some bad intel for you and it's not good."

"Important enough that you didn't bother stopping in the wash racks. So spit it out."

"Prowl." Optimus spoke quietly. "Jazz brings intel for the potential upcoming decepticon targets." He handed over the datapad. Prowl took it and quickly scanned over the lists, his tactical computer crunching the statistics as fast as he could leaving him dead certain of one particular city-state with a higher probability of being attacked.

His frame stiffed as he stared at the blaring glyphs. "Praxus." he said quietly as he glanced up at Optimus. "You called me here because of Praxus."

"I need you to try to reason with the Emirate. Either convince him to align with us of evacuate the city.... Fore if the cons don't change their projected targets then I fear Praxus will suffer greatly."

"I will try my best. I will prepare for my departure immediately."

"Smokescreen will accompany you as well."

"Thank you Prime." Prowl bowed his helm before ducking out of the room.

Jazz glanced at his friend. "Do you think He'll succeed?"

"I can only hope."

x  
x  
x

  
:What do you want I'm busy: 

:Hello to you too Ratchet. I was only going to inform you that I'm coming to pick up one of the spare feild kits.:

:You're going out? Who's your partner?:

:Smokescreen.:

:Heh.. now ain't that a coincidence.:

Prowl frowned at the medic's tone. :Ratchet... Is there something you need to tell me?:

:Yeah your idiot brother has managed to get his legs cleaved off by a fragging door of all things... Just recently in fact.:

:He what?: Prowl's voice echoed through the medbay's open comm link. "What do you mean incapacitated?: Prowl almost growled through the com, and it wasn't too long before the doors to the medbay burst open, revealing an irate Prowl who glared at Ratchet who was wrist deep into cauterizing he lines leading to where Smokescreen's legs had once been.

"How in the Pit did this happen?" Prowl stared over his sibling who lay unconscious on the table.

"Wheeljack."

Doorwings twitching in irritation a he fought the urge to facepalm. "Nevermind I don't need the details right now." Prowl sighed. "He's not going anywhere right away."

"Nope. Now if you don't mind your petulant glaring is distracting me."

"That's rich coming from you." Prowl scoffed as he obeyed the medic and exited comming someone as he walked out.

Several minutes passed with the only sound of the welder to listen to. Finally Smokescreen onlined his optics to glare at the medic. "Did you guys have to cut off my legs?"

"For the good of everyone. Yes." Ironhide grumbled as the others piled out of the medic's office.

"Seriously though you had to cut off my fragging legs?!"


	11. Tap, Tap, Tap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl makes a rare but stupid mistake. Much amusement is had at his expense.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Prowl twitched as he strained to keep from glancing over at the mech resting in the seat next to him. The moment that they had left Iacon Jazz had beyond gone; his systems humming gently as he lay sprawled out as comfortably as he could, his pedes kicked up on the console..

_Tap, tap, tap._

Prowl had been ignoring the tapping as best as he could but it had been several joors of non stop tapping…

_Tap, tap, tap._

Staring straight ahead he pleaded with the horizon, trying to ignore the tapping while somewhere in the back of his processor he was trying to decide between stopping the shuttle abruptly or shoving the mech's feet off of the console. He almost cried with relief as the outline of Praxus came into sight only to realize that he would have to wake Jazz.

Glancing over at Jazz he froze. Visor dark, and lips parted ever so slightly Jazz was captivating… Prowl hadn't realized that he had stretched a hand forward to caress that smooth cheek until it was far too late, and his helm was smashing into the console.

"Jazz!" Prowl was muffled  the console, his bumper digging into the controls. The smaller mech growled lowly in his processor still not fully booted up. "Jazz frag it wake up!" He growled as he slammed an elbow into him. This only earned him being thrown into the back of the cabin.

"Jazz damn it!" Jazz had leaped forward after his 'prey'. Prowl scrambled backwards and his hands caught purchase on a handle.

Jazz froze as the medkit hit him square in the face finally waking him from his daze. The two sat there frozen for several kliks before proximity alarms went off. Prowl cursed as he caught sight of the approaching ground.

 

x

x

x

 

Jazz was giggling, He couldn't help it.

"Oh shut up." Prowl grumbled, his wings stiff as he walked ahead of the poly. Both mechs covered in dents and dust from where the shuttle had slammed into the ground. Jazz could only wonder how much the imprints of his chest plates in Prowl's doorwings was bothering the mech.

"I didn't crash the shuttle." Jazz snickered.

"I was just trying to wake you up. You're the one that spazzed on me." Prowl grumbled.

"And you should know better than to try to touch a Ops mech while they're in recharge. Why the frag didn't you just com me?" Jazz jogged to catch up to Prowl.

Prowl shot him a side glance before turning his gaze forward to the gates ahead. The flow of traffic through the gate was relatively low, but considering the tense terms that the city-state had enacted thanks to the war it was understandable.

"Well do my optics deceive me or is that my favorite ex-enforcer?" a voice catcalled from the gatehouse and a silver praxian stepped out in front of them. "Prowl it is you!"

Prowl smiled broadly at the mech and clasped their hands in greeting. "Silverstreak. It has been a long time."

"Too long cousin. If i'm not wrong I believe you owe me some rust sticks." Silverstreak's doorwings bouncing merrily on his back.

Jazz watched the two praxian's, their friendly banter and their wriggling  (in Prowl's case slightly twitching thanks to their dented state) doorwings.  Soon enough however it came to an end and Prowl bade his kin farewell and they were waved through the gates.

"Well You two sure were lively." Jazz said quietly. "What he have to say?"

"We're late. And we're not the only ambassadors here to see the Emirate." Prowl said gruffly  he tried to ignore the glances that were occasionally shot their way by the occasional mech. A tint of blue had tinted Prowl's face plates as he continued down the sidewalk. He kept his optics straight ahead and ignored any of the stares the two of them received.

That blush grew even more when a lithe femme stopped Prowl to whisper into his audio. She chuckled at his flustering and whispered something else before walking away with a wink. Prowl glanced back at Jazz and noticed the slag eating smirk on his face.

"Okay that's it we're going to see a medic." 

 


End file.
